Page 41 of She Doesn't Have a Clue
“Can’t say I blame her, though,” said a man whose cheeks looked permanently red. “The latest batch of Hempsteads is a real mess. Kennedy’s an all right egg, but that boy Richard did an internship at Gary’s firm a few years ago and was a complete waste of space. Didn’t understand the first thing about advertising, much less working in an office. Gary said he’d show up in all sorts of states, drunk, high, who knows what.”
“You didn’t hear it from me, but how do you think Kennedy got the job at Simon Says in the first place?” said a woman in a raspy voice that Kate realized was Serena Archer. The picket line must have broken up already. “The girl is barely out of short dresses and here she is, running the entire marketing department! More like running it into the ground.”
Smoking Jacket Guy gave her a surprised look. “I’d heard from Simon that she was a star, a real up-and-comer.”
Serena snorted. “The only reason Simon would say that is because she gave him a healthy infusion of much-needed cash to grease the wheels. Oh, she tried to keep it quiet, but someone spilled the beans about Kennedy being a so-called silent investor in a rather nasty exposé inPub Daily. The publisher’s been struggling for years, it’s no secret, and hardworking, high-earning writers like us have been carrying it on our backs with barely a thanks. And how does she repay us? By tanking our sales and ruining our careers! Well, it won’t stand, I tell you. She’ll find she can’t ignore us all when we come together in the mighty lion’s roar.”
“Was that your lion’s roar we heard outside?” said the man with red cheeks. He snickered into his glass. “More like a kitten’s meow, if you ask me.”
Serena sputtered mimosa and outrage in equal measure. “How dare you—Kate, tell him!”
“What?” Kate asked in alarm. She thought she’d been doing a good job of lurking, but as Serena fixed her gaze on her, she realized she was caught out. “I’ve got… things.”
“Scab!” Serena cried shrilly in an echo of their previous encounter outside. “You mark my words, scab, you’ll be one of us someday soon. Out on the streets with nothing but our author copies to keep us warm! You can’t escape us forever. Join the revolution!”
Kate hastily backed away, bumping into a man with a belly like a mall Santa and pirouetting around his wife, who was more perfume than woman. By the time she did a little dance to avoid colliding with a server carrying an urn of piping hot coffee, she was ping-ponging her way through the crowd in an increasingly unbalanced manner. It was around the fourth or fifth muttered “watch it” when she realized this could only end in disaster, which was when she ran chest to chest into someone carrying two full glasses of champagne.
“Oh!” she exclaimed as half the contents of one glass splashed down the front of her shirt, little bubbles rising and popping on the surface. “I’m sorry, it’s so crowded, I—Jake?”
“I might have to reconsider nicknaming you Cannonball Kate,” he said, though she couldn’t tell if his tone was teasing or angry. Her eyes dropped down to the two glasses in his hands, one now half-empty.
“You have… two champagne glasses.”
His mouth tightened, just the tiniest bit. “I do.”
“Oh,” she said, hating how small and sad her voice sounded. Not that Jake owed her anything (he didn’t), and not that she expected anything (she definitely didn’t), but the fact that he seemed to have already found someone else to spend his time with so quickly still hurt.
“Ugh, there you are,” said Juliette Winters as she snagged the full glass from Jake’s hand and knocked half of it back in one gulp.
Kate’s gaze wandered from Juliette back to Jake in shock. “The glass was for Juliette?”
“I sent him to find me one nearly half an hour ago,” Juliette said, giving Jake a frank look. “You’re lucky you have a beautiful face, because you’re a terrible waiter.”
Jake rolled his eyes. “A, I told you I wasn’t a waiter. B, I know you know who I am. You ran the marketing campaign on theWandering Australianbooks.”
Juliette shook her head, polishing off the rest of her champagne. “That would have been Kennedy, I don’t do photography books. No, we’ve never met, I’m sure of it. I make a personal habit of remembering guys I might have sex with later.”
Jake choked on his sip of champagne as Kate blurted out, “He has a brother. Jake does. He’s a doctor. The brother, not Jake.”
Juliette looked her up and down with a critical eye. “I see what you’re trying to do, and you’re not subtle about it. But, you’re also not wrong. Tell me more about this doctor brother. What’s his specialty? If it’s feet, I’m out. Or vaginas. I’m competitive, but that’s masochism.”
“Charlie is a cardiothoracic surgeon,” Kate said, hoping Juliette wouldn’t ask for details, since she’d thoughtcardiothoracicwas a dinosaur era when she’d first met Charlie.
But Juliette scrunched up her nose in distaste. “Charlie? No, that’s not happening. That’s a terrible name. Imagine callingthatout in bed.”
“Juliette and I were just discussing how things have been going at Simon Says since Kennedy took over the marketing department,” Jake said, looking at Kate meaningfully. “Apparently, there have been some hiccups.”
“More like fuckups,” Juliette snorted.
Jake looked at Kate, tilting his head slightly toward Juliette with an emphatic expression. Which was when Kate realized, with a funny little lurch in her heart, that Jake had been investigating for her. Bringing Juliette a glass of champagne, loosening her up, getting her to talk.
“What kind of fuckups?” Kate asked innocently, giving Jake a wink. Except Juliette chose that moment to look at her, narrowing her eyes.
“What is that? What are you doing? Is this some weird tag team attempt to change my mind about you poisoning Kennedy last night?”
“No, it’s not.” Kate crossed her arms. “But I’m not the only one with a potential grudge against Kennedy, am I?”
Juliette gave her a desultory once-over. “Are you interrogating me, Nancy Drew?”